


So High

by aisle_one



Series: Love and Felching [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisle_one/pseuds/aisle_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames can't get enough of being a human billboard.  (Neither can the author, apparently.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So High

**Author's Note:**

> Follows [Wednesday the 13th](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1131469). Might be helpful to read first, but not necessary (I think.)
> 
> _____

"I've got my job back."

"Do you?" Arthur peered at him over his mug, poised to take another sip of coffee. He blinked blearily, hesitant to prod for more. Eames had a terrible habit of delivering bad news in the mornings, before Arthur was properly caffeinated. Or proposing horrible ideas, which is how Arthur ended up co-lessee of a food truck in Jamaica, Queens, selling pasties and fried egg sandwiches for six months. Eames had slipped the rental contract next to his plate of eggs, sausages, beans and black pudding - Eames's specialty - and held Arthur's mug of coffee hostage until Arthur caved and signed the damn thing. This man. This man knew him too well.

"Yes, you remember. It's at the Vitamin Shoppe, same building as your office."

"What?" Arthur said, not certain he heard correctly. Eames couldn't mean - 

"I'll be passing out flyers, same as last time. Now hold on - stop looking at me like that. It's just temporary. A sales position is coming available in a few weeks."

"Will you get health insurance?" Because when Eames broke his arm several months ago, Arthur's mouth nearly dropped to the floor at seeing the hospital bills.

"If I go full time, yeah."

"Will you?"

Eames shrugged. "Maybe. If it doesn't interfere with my other business."

"Eames." Arthur sighed, put his mug down, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I thought we talked about this."

Eames scowled at him. "We did. And I _am_ going legit. I keep my word." At Arthur's raised brow, he added, "Most of the time. I was talking about my pieces. They're gaining potentially lucrative momentum. Some posh gallery in Williamsburg has asked me to hold a show, and they've got a space in Chelsea, too." He drummed his fingers on the table, momentarily assessing Arthur. He looked like he wanted to say more, but shook his head. "Anyhow. That's that."

"Well, good," Arthur said, then yelped in the next moment when Eames kicked the chair out from under him and he found himself hanging upside down over Eames's shoulder, staring at Eames's thick ass. "Put me down, you fucking oaf."

"Hey, there's no need for insults. Besides, what are you complaining about? You've got a spectacular view down there of the ripest arse and most munchable in New York City." Eames shook his hips. "And you know that's jelly 'cause jam don't shake like that."

Arthur snorted. He palmed one buttock, which Eames helpfully flexed for him. "Not bad. But as for most munchable - "

"We'll have a contest." They stumbled into the bedroom where Eames tossed him onto the bed, promptly stripped Arthur's boxers off him, and flipped him on his stomach. "I'll go first."

 

_

 

"Good day, sir, buy two get one free." Eames shoved the flyer in Arthur's hand. He swept a hand down the billboard he was sporting over his torso announcing the same deal. "What d'you think of my get up?"

"You look as ridiculous as you did the first time."

"It doesn't make you hot for me?" Eames asked, lewdly licking his lips.

"No, you weirdo." Arthur burst out a laugh, though it was quickly aborted when Eames slipped something smooth and filmy in his hand. He looked down, took in the tiny bag stuffed with what resembled green moss, and froze. "What the hell is this?"

"A freebie. For my favorite customer."

Arthur stared at him, unbelieving. His eyes shifted minutely and landed on Eames's pocket, obviously stuffed and overflowing with other bags, the tips of them spiking out visibly. The anger unfurled from low in his belly and instantly soared to a consuming flame. "What in the fucking fuck?" Arthur hissed in Eames's face, angling his body to block the gap exposing Eames's illicit activity. "You cannot be fucking serious. Are you asking to be caught?"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. Only amateurs go for parks and shaded corners these days. This, here, is the cutting-edge of the drug dealing business. It's near as good as owning your own SUV and making home deliveries."

"Don't say drug dealing so loudly."

"You just did," Eames pointed out. "And by the way - drug dealing."

"You - " Arthur sank his fingers in Eames's arm, made sure they were embedded painfully, and yanked him inside the office building.

"Ow, you're hurting me," Eames exclaimed in an unnaturally high voice. "Daddy."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

"Where are we going?" 

"To my office."

"Oh, so I did get you hot."

Arthur refused to entertain the comment with an answer. Minutes later, they were in the men's bathroom on the sixth floor. A tiny room with one stall and two urinals. Arthur had the only key. He locked the door behind them. "Take them out. Start flushing."

Eames frowned at him. "Is this really necessary?"

"Do you want to _die_? Because this is where this is heading. And I plan to use my bare hands and the spikey end of my favorite pen." To show that he was serious, Arthur pulled the pen from his pocket and waived it threateningly.

"All right. Jesus." 

Soon, Eames's pocket was empty and the toilet water was spinning back to stillness after repeat flushing, relatively free of green-colored debris. Arthur vaguely thought that the room should smell pungent at this point, but perhaps the scented deodorizer was strong enough to camouflage all odors.

"Done?" Eames asked, holding up his hands.

"Except for this." Arthur held up the bag Eames had given him earlier. He opened it, readied to throw its contents into the toilet. Just then, Eames grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," Eames said. He pulled out a lighter and several pieces of paper, small squares intended for only one thing.

"Really?" Arthur said.

"Come on. It's the last of the batch and I got it from Yusuf. That's some good shit, man."

"Eames!" God, this man was infuriating. Arthur stamped his foot. "Really? _Really?_ Fine." He tore through the bag with his teeth and the weed flew out, scattering to the floor and all over Arthur's shirt. Something glossy, too, and metal. It bounced on the tile with a tinny sound. Arthur peered down. A silver ring shined back at him. Suddenly dumbfounded, Arthur said, "Um, what?"

Then Eames was on one knee, not meeting Arthur's eyes, neck and face red, and fumbling with Arthur's left hand as he tried to slip the ring on. "Shit," he said, when it wouldn't budge past Arthur's knuckle. "It's the same size as all your other rings."

"Here," Arthur said, fiddling with it until his knuckle gave and it slid the rest of the way. He stared at it, finally comprehending what Eames had done. What they were about to do. "Oh my god."

"I know," Eames said, beaming up at him. He reclaimed Arthur's hand and kissed his palm. "And I promise it's not for the health insurance. Also, the weed was fake."

"Should've known that was too easy." Arthur laughed, giddy and slightly hysterical. Maybe the weed was weed, and he was experiencing some form of second-hand high. "Is this really happening?"

"Well, you haven't said yes yet."

"That might be moot. I don't think I can take the ring off."

"Well, then - "

"Yes."

"Yes?"

Arthur nodded, his face aching from smiling so hard. And once again he was swept off his feet - literally - as Eames scooped him up for a kiss.


End file.
